


Mind How You Go

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [38]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22089814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: The moment they were alone, Crowley closed his eyes behind his glasses and focused on his breathing.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 34
Kudos: 1376
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Mind How You Go

The moment they were alone, Crowley closed his eyes behind his glasses and focused on his breathing, and the hands wrapped around his. Real, solid, living hands. No fire, no acrid smell of burning.

"Crowley, you're shaking."

"Don't go all tender on me, angel. I can't afford to fall apart just yet, I've another lecture to get through." He took a long breath, let it out again, and straightened, grounding himself. Sight, sound, touch...he was fine. Well, as fine as circumstances allowed. "And you to get home," he added, managing a slight, wry smile. He could feel the memories waiting to crash down on him again, but for now, the mental barrier was holding.

"Tonight, then," Aziraphale said. "When we're home." He squeezed Crowley's hand in his, and let go.

"When we're safe," Crowley agreed. "Don't scare me like that again."

"I'll try not to." Aziraphale winced as he moved his right leg. "I didn't mean to the first time."

Crowley caught his angel's hand again, dropped a chaste kiss on the back of it. "Mind how you go," he said, and prised himself cautiously to his aching feet.

"You too," Aziraphale replied behind him, as Crowley let the wave of relief carry him back across campus.

The students had heard, he could tell just by looking at them as he passed them in the corridor. The whispers he caught said that many of them couldn't bring themselves to believe it. He didn't match the stories Aziraphale told. Or they couldn't see how he matched the stories. He was "obviously" too evil, too nasty, too vicious. He was just a stand-in, some said. A fake to cover for the fact that Dear Anthony didn't really exist. A pretender, wanting to get Dr Fell alone for some reason.

Crowley felt his mouth twitch when they hushed each other on spotting him, eyes trailing him as he went past, but he'd pushed himself too hard already today to have the strength to stand and debate with them. He was infinitely glad to reach his own classroom and be able to sit down, shifting his long limbs until he found the least painful angle for them. Thankfully, it was a lecture he had given often enough to be able to produce it almost by rote.

The trouble came at the end, in the questions.

"Is Dr Fell going to be ok?"

Crowley let his mouth tighten a little. "So I'm told. Any questions on the _lecture_?"

They hesitated, and he could feel them steeling themselves.

One of the boys (white, rich parents) lifted his chin. "Is it true you're Anthony? Why didn't you tell us?"

"You didn't ask."

"But you let us assume..."

"The world is not," Crowley growled, the strain of holding himself together putting a harsh note in his voice that none of them had heard from him before, "required to cater to your whims and assumptions. Some of us learn that early on. Some later. Others refuse to learn it at all. If you haven't learnt it yet, best get on and do so before you run into something worse than a married professor."

The boy opened his mouth to say more, but the student beside him pulled him down and hissed audibly for him to shut up, stop antagonising Dr Crowley, didn't he know what the man was like yet?

Crowley raised a hand for quiet, and got it. "I'm not antagonised by honest questions," he told them. "But since I am not a plant, questions on my personal life are off-topic and not suitable for class. Dismissed."

They scrambled out, and he sat for a moment longer, just breathing, before he gathered his belongings and went out to bring the car as close to Aziraphale's room as he could get it.

Some of the Literature students helped Aziraphale out to it.

Crowley waited until they were gone, and then texted Warlock. The kid snuck into the back, and Crowley took them all home.


End file.
